SO CLOSE AND YET SO FAR

Have you noticed how the world has become
        both smaller and bigger at the same time?
London, Ontario has receded as far away
        as London, England.
A coffee shop meeting with a close friend is as distant
        as a visit with a friend in Vancouver.
A monthly networking event is reduced
        to 20 headshots in Zoom distorted by spotty Wi-Fi
An international conference with scholars from around the world
        remotely, on phone, tablet or computer monitor
        academically useful but distantly impersonal.
Yet, I can tour an ancient tomb
        digitally from the comfort of my couch
Or take my time to explore
        gallery exhibitions in distant cities.
With the magic of street view
        I can walk down any street in the mapped world.
        or zoom by satellite over mountains, lakes,
        exotic destinations or my own neighbourhood.
Without leaving my house, I can
        browse catalogues of any store,
        order slippers or motorcycle parts for delivery
        by Canada Post, to my front door.
Restaurants and bars are out of reach,
        but delicious new recipes flood my inbox
I have the time to bake bread
        and experiment with Moroccan chick pea stew.
I miss browsing in the local library,
        but I can download new releases to read at leisure.
Meanwhile, living in close quarters
        far, far away up in the sky
Astronauts orbit the beautiful blue planet,
        knowing that ironically, they are safer up there
        in the International Space Station
        than anywhere on earth.
And we on earth, isolated in the comfort of our own homes
        living our lives remotely
        stare longingly at the sky.
So close and yet so far.

MEMORIES OF CAPE TOWN

If I close my eyes,

I can almost hear the steady roar of rolling surf
and smell the salty tang of spray and feel its gentle sting
when I walk in Sea Point along the sea wall on a gusty day.
I can still hear the clickety clack, clickety clack of the train
on its slow route through St James Station to Simonstown.
I imagine fishing trawlers plowing through choppy seas
to unload their daily catch at Kalk Bay harbour.
 
I sense Table Mountain standing guard, the town nestled at its feet,
a white table cloth of clouds unfolding down its sides,
until the wind changes direction, lifting the veil,
revealing the power of the mountain and its attendants.
If I rode the cable car to the top, I would see the bay,
ships snug at harbour, homes, beaches and lonely Robben Island.
 
I relish for a moment, the feel of sand between my toes
as I stroll along the water’s edge of Clifton beach,
sun beating on my back, toes tingling from the Atlantic Ocean chill.
Or better still, the rough play in warm breakers at Muizenberg,
leaping waves or diving through the heavy ocean swells.
 
In my mind I still feel the power of my horse
as I gallop along the shore of Bloubergstrand
or trot quietly amongst the vineyards in Constantia.
I loiter for a moment at the gates of Springfield Convent
to kindle memories of school days and school friends.
Then on to UCT, taking the hard way, walking up Stanley Hill,
across the rugby fields to picture-perfect ivy clad walls of my Alma Mater.
Here I rest on Jammie steps, seeing distant mountains capped with snow.
 
At end of day, detouring along the glorious drive of Chapman’s Peak,
I sit on pure white sand, a glass of Pinotage in hand,
to savour once more, the glory of a sunset at Llandudno Beach.
 
Cape Town, no longer my home, but forever in my heart.

 

SUR-REALITY

 

VIEW FROM THE PILLION - SLOVENIA

 

From my seat, behind the rider

I have a panoramic view.
A landscape rich with fields, neat farms;
trees brimming with red ripening apples,
like Christmas ornaments.
 
Tiny chapels and tall crucifixes
stand guard along the route.
Like a motion picture, the scenery flows by
along the road with sweeping curves.
 
Powering smoothly up a mountain pass
to views of vineyards, carved into hills,
stepping down the sides of valleys;
grapes ready for the picking.
 
Past hamlets with flowerboxes
spilling over with geraniums,
fields dotted with orange pumpkins,
corn bursting with yellow kernels.
 
The blue sky, kissed by the sun,
sprinkled with rain, makes the perfect green.
That’s the colour of the hills and valleys.
That is the green of Slovenia.
 
Leaning into the corners,
I breathe in fresh country smells;
cut grass, manure, chicken coops
and fragrant forest aromas.
And I am refreshed.

First prize winner for the Ladies Biker Poetry Contest in the Toronto International Spring Motorcycle Show, 2023

TODAY INSTEAD OF WRITING A POEM

I baked bread. Yes, I know I said
I’d write a poem a day, but let me just say
That’s getting tough to do. I hope that’s okay with you.
 
This bread is really easy-peasy, lemon squeezy.
No yeast or sourdough in here. The star of the bread is beer.
You might think that’s a waste but it has a really great taste.

Light at the end of the tunnel

RAINBOW TUNNEL MURAL

Original mural by Bc Johnson, 1972 - Restored by Mural Routes, 2013

What mysteries does the rainbow hide?

What stories does it share?

What happens if you go inside

for those who travel there?

A portal to epic fantasies,

born of love, crafted with care,

this rainbow has memories.

A memorial to one who died.

A message of hope and caring.

And when you step inside

There’s space for dreams and sharing

amidst stories painted bright.

And when you travel further

the tunnel takes you to the light.

IS THIS THE TRUTH?

I dreamt once,
long ago,
of warmth and loving,
of gentleness and understanding
and truth.
 
And from the mist
of warmth
I awoke and felt the glow of loving
of gentleness and understanding.
And yet I couldn’t tell; where was the truth?
 
I dreamt again, many times
Faces changed
but not the warmth.
I dreamt and hoped
that dreams were true.
 
And then you.

You asked nothing only offered
warmth and loving
gentleness and understanding
Now I can tell,
this is the truth.

Featured in Mythos Poetry Society Love Letter weekly prompt